


An Enemy on the One Hand

by the_witching_hours



Series: An Enemy on the One Hand [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-13 02:36:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11750298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_witching_hours/pseuds/the_witching_hours
Summary: Summary: Reader Insert - Soulmate AU/Enemy AU: the universe determined your soulmate and enemy at birth, giving you one hint for each; their initials on one of your wrists. BUt what happens if BOTH sets of initials are for the same person? Set during CA:TWS





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Y/N: your name | L/N: your last name | Y/N/N: your nickname

You were born with two sets of initials on your wrists; one set was your enemy’s, the other was your soulmate’s. Trouble was, you didn’t know which was which. The marks appeared on people’s wrists when their enemy or soulmate were born, for you, the marks were already there when you were born; so your soulmate and enemy were both older than you, by at least a few minutes. The marks were meant to burn a little bit when you crossed paths with your people, but you’d never felt anything. You would have thought you were one of the few in the world who didn’t have a predestined enemy or soulmate if not for the lingering W.S. on your left wrist, and J.B.B. on your right.

Life moved on, though you’d yet to cross paths with either your soulmate or your enemy, the initials remained. The marks would fade if the person they represented died, so you knew they were still alive, but you never found them.

...

You had a bad feeling. Work was tense, but that wasn’t unusual; SHIELD was always tense to some extent, this was different than usual though. Nick Fury had just been killed by an unknown assailant. Captain America was the last person to have seen him alive, and according to gossip, Alexander Pierce and Jasper Sitwell were blaming him for the whole event. You found that unbelievably hard to swallow, for two reasons. 

Reason #1: Natasha Romanov was a friend to you. You had no idea if she thought of you that way in return, but you trusted her and she worked with and trusted the Captain. Nick Fury had been a stable presence in her chaotic life; his death had hurt her. You couldn’t see a man who was her fellow Avenger killing Fury, for that reason alone.

Reason #2: Jasper Sitwell and Alexander Pierce were smarmy, slimy, creepy guys. At least they were to you. You’d never trusted them, and with it coming down to their word against Steve Rogers’, you trust Steve more by a mile.

Your thoughts were only confirmed when the STRIKE team attacked Steve in the elevator and then declared  Steve Rogers an enemy. Steve Rogers: Captain America, a hero, and an Avenger; an enemy? Yeah right.

You were pulled from your thoughts by your phone ringing. Not your desk phone, not your SHIELD issued phone, but your burn phone. It was identical to your SHIELD phone, but you’d asked Natasha to encrypt all of its incoming and outgoing calls and texts so it couldn’t be traced. Yes, you could have asked a SHIELD tech to do that, but paranoia was second nature after long enough as an agent, and an undisclosed mutant.

You’d been able to levitate since you were ten, and fly since you turned 15. You’d managed to stay under the radar so far, and hoped to keep it that way. Your powers combined with your SHIELD training and your extra sessions with Black Widow, made you a force to be reckoned with, and a valuable potential “asset”. Since you didn’t much fancy being pursued and potentially used for your powers, you’d chosen to keep your “superhero” antics to smaller things.

Looking at the screen, you saw that the caller ID was blocked. You locked down your computer station and walked out of the room, answering the call as you walked.

“What’s going on?” you asked, not wanting to attract attention, or ask any specific questions until you were out of the building. 

“Fuck if I know. So far pretty much everyone I know is trying to kill me.”

“Shiiiiiit,” you groaned as you crossed into the parking garage, “okay, I can’t talk now, I’m on my way. Shoot me an address and a shopping list.” You hoped Natasha trusted you enough to let you help. If things were as bad as it seemed, you didn’t want to sit on the sidelines; you wanted to help.

A moment later an address and a short list of requests hit your phone. Deciding to “borrow” a SHIELD issue bike, you grab a helmet. This wasn’t out of the ordinary for you; living in the city, you didn’t own a car, but you checked out cars and bikes from work as needed. As soon as you were a decent distance from SHIELD, you pulled into an unmonitored garage and removed the GPS tracking device from the bike’s engine; the bike itself was nondescript, but you didn’t want to run the risk of being traced to Natasha and Steve.

Nevertheless, you parked the bike a good mile away from the address and walked the rest of the way. Arriving you knocked on the door and waited, standing still with your hands out of your pockets and loose at your sides, knowing that whoever answered the door would be looking for any sign of betrayal. Moments later, a man answered the door. He was tall, with a shaved head, and brown eyes that looked at you with suspicion.

“Nat called me,” you explained, not wanting to go into too much detail in the open.

He glanced back over his shoulder, then back to you and nodded, opening the door wide enough for you to enter. You stepped away from the door and took the backpack off your back, setting it on the floor slightly in front of you, “Nat will probably want to check that before I get any closer.”

Sure enough, a head of red hair peeked around a corner, then ducked back around before Natasha herself walked out. 

“You know me so well, Y/N,” she said calmly, searching through your bag, “were you followed?”

“No, I disabled the tracker and parked a mile west of here.” She nodded and stood, handing your bag back to you as the man who answered the door walked into an adjoining room.

“Thanks, Y/N. I wasn’t sure who else I could trust.”

“No worries, I was hoping you’d call. There’s all sorts of weird shit flying around at SHIELD now. I don’t believe a fucking word of it. How can I help?”

Natasha smirked and led you to the kitchen where the man from before was sitting across a small table from Steve Rogers, who rose as you entered the room and shook your hand.

“Agent L/N, thanks for coming. I know you put a lot on the line for this.”

“Don’t sweat it Captain, and it’s Y/N.”

“Steve,” he agreed and released your hand. He looked over your shoulder to Nat, who spoke up.

“I know you don’t want people to know Y/N, but I think we may need you to use your powers before this is over.”

Your head jerked around and your eyes met hers. You weren’t sure why you were surprised; she was possibly the best spy in the world, but you were still shocked.

“Does…” you swallowed before trying again, “does anyone else…”

“No one else knows. I found some old video footage, and I erased it after I watched it.” You nodded, slightly mollified. Not that it would matter. If you were gonna help Steve and Nat the way they needed, your powers would be outed. But if you didn’t help…

Steeling yourself, you looked up and this time you met Steve’s eyes.

“What do you need me to do?”

...

That's how you ended up on the bridge, tailing Steve and Natasha. They had confronted Sitwell with the help of the other man who introduced himself as Sam Wilson. They took Sitwell up to the roof of a tall building to have their “talk”. Sitwell tried to call Steve’s bluff there, claiming that it wasn’t Steve’s style to kick him off the roof. Steve agreed, and  _ Natasha _ kicked Sitwell off the roof. Sam caught him using the falcon wings that you and Nat had…  _ liberated _ for him.

Now you were back on your borrowed bike, tailing Sam’s car from several car lengths back. And your left wrist started to burn. 

It startled you so bad you almost swerved into the car to your right; you’d never had a reaction from either of your marks before. But before you could even begin to wonder what was happening, gunshots rang out and the SUV directly behind Sam’s car crashed into him.

A man was on top of Sam’s car now, and as you tried to get your bike through the tangled mess of cars in front of you, the man punched through the car’s roof and ripped off the steering wheel. Then you saw Jasper Sitwell thrown from the car and directly into the path of an oncoming truck, which hit him solidly and ripped him from your sight. Gunshots fired rapidly and you found a gap in the cars. You shot forward and quickly laid the bike down, rolling away as it slid forward into a group of shooters, taking them by surprise. You rolled to your feet and pulled you own gun, seeing Nat leap over the side of the bridge before an enemy engaged you. You threw your weight at him, tossing both of you over the side of the bridge as well. Your descent was slowed by your powers, his, not so much. You looked around for Nat, but your eyes caught Steve instead as he crawled from an overturned bus.

“What the fuck is going on?” you shouted as you ran up to him. Bullets pelted the ground around you and Steve covered you both with his shield.

“I have no idea, but that guy with the metal arm? He’s the one who killed Fury,” Steve shouted back as you ducked around the shield to return fire, taking out two of the shooters.

“You sure?” you asked.

“Positive. Nat said he’s called the Winter Soldier.” Your left wrist burned again as the soldier in question landed on the roof of a nearby car and made his way towards the two of you.

“Go find Nat,” Steve instructed, heading for the soldier, shield in hand.

For just a second, you contemplated what this meant for you. Winter Soldier would certainly fit the W.S. on your wrist. All you could do is hope you’d figure out who he was to you before shit got too complicated.

…

As it turned out, “complicated” may have been too tame of a word for your current situation.

Nat had been shot, the assailants and the soldier had pulled back, and now you were locked up in the back of a secured transport with two guards in full riot gear, armed with electric prods.

Steve had recognized the soldier. He was someone that Steve had thought dead since before he went into the ice; his best friend that he’d thought was long gone. You couldn’t decide which was worse; losing your friends entirely, or having him still around, but not able to remember you at all.

Steve looked so lost.

Sam spoke up, telling the guards that if Nat didn’t get medical attention soon she’d bleed out. One of the guards raised their prod, everyone tensed, but the guard turned the weapon on the other guard instead. You, Steve, Nat and Sam stared in shock as the guard removed their helmet.

“Maria?!” you asked. The guard, was in fact, Agent Maria Hill.

“That thing was squeezing my brain,”she said as she straightened her hair. You let out a small chuckle and felt your body relax; you trusted Maria implicitly. As you relaxed, your mind wandered back to the bridge. One of your marks had reacted for the first time in your life. If this guy was as old as Steve said, and as “ghost-like” as Nat implied, you guessed it wasn’t a huge surprise you’d never crossed paths with him before. 

“Steve, what did you say your friend’s name was?” You had heard him mention a name, but you’d been too preoccupied to take it in apparently. And even though “Winter Soldier” was the name the universe had picked for your mark, it didn’t feel right to use that name, especially not around Steve.

“Bucky. Well  _ I _ called him Bucky. His full name’s James Buchanan Barnes.”

“No fucking way!”


	2. Chapter 2

 

You’d hoped that learning that Nick Fury was alive would be enough to distract the others from your outburst, it had distracted YOU, albeit momentarily. But the second you were alone with Nat, the questioning began.

“Spill,” she grunted as she gently rotated her injured shoulder, testing the stitches.

“I’m not sure how much there is to  _ ‘spill’ _ for you Nat,” you hedged, shrugging your shoulders.

“Bullshit. You heard the soldier’s name and cursed. Now i’d like to what the reason was for that. So,  _ spill _ .”

“I’d like to hear this as well,” Steve stepped around the corner of the curtain blocking Nat from the view of the rest of the room, Sam right behind him.

“Oh fuck it,” you grumbled. You pushed your sleeves up, exposing your wrists, and their marks; you showed them to Natasha. “They’ve never reacted till today, and it was only the left one.”

Natasha didn’t say a word. She let out a heavy sigh, and looked at you with a sad sort of smirk on her face. You raised your eyebrows and gave her a “yeah, I know” look before turning to Steve and Sam, showing them your wrists as well.

“Son of a bitch,” Sam swore under his breath, while Steve looked from one wrist to the other, then to your face.

“Yeah,” you said, pulling your sleeves back down to cover your marks again and bringing your arms back to your torso; wrapping them around yourself. Steve sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair and over his face.

You didn’t get any time to really talk to Steve about any of this, until later. After a ‘game plan’ (if you could call it that) had been laid out. You caught up with him and Sam as they talked outside.

“Look, whoever he used to be, the guy he is now, I don’t think he’s the kind of guy you save. He’s the kind you stop.” Steve sighed and looked like he was about to reply.

“Your friend’s still in there Steve,” you interrupted, both of them turning to face you.

“You can’t know that Y/N,” Sam said calmly, “you said only your left wrist reacted when you saw him.”

“Yeah, but the J.B.B. is still there.” You pulled up your sleeve to emphasize your point, raising your arm so he could see.

“So?”

“If he was gone… If that part of him was completely gone, the initials would fade. They’d disappear.”

“How do you know that?” Steve asked, not looking at you, but out over the ledge as he was leaned on the railing.

“My grandfather. He had Alzheimer’s. It advanced pretty fast; he forgot who I was fairly early on. His initials started to fade from my Grandma’s wrist as the… as he got worse. Before he died, the marks were gone entirely.” You swallowed around the lump in your throat. It’d been years, but you still missed your grandfather. And now, comparing his death and your soulmate’s life… It was hitting you harder than you expected. “The marks fade when the  _ soul _ dies, not the body.” You looked at Steve when you finished; you needed him to understand. Then you looked to Sam, and although he still looked skeptical, he nodded to you.

“I guess that makes sense.”

After a few moments, Steve announced that it was time to go.

“You gonna wear that?” Sam asked, motioning to Steve’s outfit.

“No. If you’re gonna fight a war, you gotta wear a uniform.”

…

“Is that uniform as old as you?” you asked Steve, “cause it’s holding together way better than I thought it would be. I mean, you’re old dude.”

“I’m gonna ignore that,” Steve responded as you both barged into the control room. The techs inside took one look at Steve and backed away.

Steve gave a speech over the intercom, explaining to all the remaining agents what was happening, how HYDRA had infiltrated, and just what those carriers were gonna do. As soon as he finished, Sam sassed him. You rolled your eyes, but laughed a little, appreciating his attempt at lightening the situation. Then an alarm sounded, the carriers were being launched.

The fun was about to begin.

…

The plan had been for you to stay in the control room with Maria, watching as the carriers were locked down. But when Sam was grounded, one carrier still in the air, you ran to the roof. You met a few agents on your run, several unfriendly, and gained a few bruises and a bullet graze along the way. 

Once on the roof, you spotted the last carrier and took a running leap over the edge; flying as fast as you could. The wind whipped your hair into your face and stung the bleeding gash on your left hip, but you didn’t dare slow down. You landed on the deck of the carrier and made you way to the core, where you spotted Steve, and the soldier.

They were standing on the catwalk that lead to the core where Steve needed to insert the chip to disable the carrier, but the soldier was blocking Steve’s path. The two engaged and the soldier stabbed Steve, who dropped the chip. They fell from the catwalk, the soldier in possession of the chip. Steve caught him in a headlock, holding him until he passed out and his limp fingers dropped the chip. 

“Steve,” you called, landing on the catwalk and raising your hands, gesturing for his to throw you the chip. He raised his head, saw you and smiled a little. He picked up the chip and walked closer before winding his arm back to toss you the chip.

Unfortunately, the soldier regained consciousness incredibly fast. He shot at Steve, who then elected to climb up to the core, instead of throwing the chip up to you.

“Idiot,” you growled before jumping off the catwalk to land behind the soldier. Steve had made it almost to the core when the soldier shot again, hitting Steve in the gut. 

You threw yourself at the soldier, hitting him in the back and forcing him off balance. The soldier spun around, his focus now on you, just in time for Steve to insert the chip.

“Charlie locked,” Steve confirmed. The soldier advanced on you then, knife drawn. You jumped, propelling yourself back up to the catwalk next to Steve as he told Maria to fire. The weapon system now rigged to take out the carriers themselves instead of the innocent people they had been originally targeting. You nodded to Steve, telling him that you still had the strength to airlift him and the soldier out of here. Assuming of course, that the soldier allowed you close enough to do so.

But that didn’t happen. As the carrier got hit, the soldier was knocked down and pinned by a huge steel beam. You and Steve pulled the beam off of him, only to have him fight you again. He swung at you and his fist caught your head, throwing your body across the carrier. Your back hit a wall and you fell on your front, ears ringing, vision clearing slowly.

The soldier had Steve pinned. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Steve had dropped his shield and pulled his mask off. You saw Steve fall first, the soldier following soon after. 

You jumped in time to catch them both before they hit the water, slowing their descent just enough, and pulling the muscles in your arms tight. They were both incredibly heavy, and Steve was unconscious, so you couldn’t carry them far. You made it to the edge of the water and hit your knees, dropping both of them. The soldier gained his feet, and turned to leave.

“He believes in you ya know?” you said quietly, looking at Steve instead of the soldier as you spoke.

“Why?” came a quiet, somewhat strangled reply.

“He knew you. Before you became what you are now. You had a childhood, a life before you became the soldier. Steve was a part of it,” you said gesturing to the still unconscious man in front of you, “you were close, from what he’s told me, you were like brothers.”

“He called me the wrong name.”

“What is your name then? Cause ‘Winter Soldier’ is a  _ title _ , not a name.” The soldier didn’t seem to have a response to that, so you continued, “You’ve got to get out of here, but I don’t think HYDRA is a safe place for you. They’ll tell you you failed, they’ll hurt you. You have to get out on your own, figure out who you are; live your own life.”

He didn’t move, he seemed almost frozen. You stood slowly, and started to move closer to him, making sure to enter his line of sight slowly as well so as not to startle him. 

“Who are you?” he asked, looking at you, then over at Steve, but directing the question to you.

“My name is Y/N. I was a SHIELD agent, but I guess that’s toast now,” you sighed, “honestly, I don’t know what I am right now. I’m just tired.”

“You’re bleeding.” You covered the wound on your hip with your hand.

“Yeah, someone got a lucky shot. Not lucky enough though; it’s just a graze.” When you looked up, he had moved slightly closer to you, his eyes on you now. You weren’t sure exactly what emotion was playing through his eyes, but it looked a little like concern.

“I’ll be okay, I’ve had much worse. What about you? Are you hurt?”

His eyes met yours then, and he looked surprised. Thinking back on it, HYDRA had probably  _ never _ asked him that, of course he’d be shocked. He took a moment, but shook his head in reply; he wasn’t hurt.

“You’d better get going. I don’t know who’ll show up to get us, but it most likely won’t be good for you,” you said softly. You hoped he took your advice and steered clear of HYDRA, but at this particular moment, there wasn’t much you could do to stop him if he did. You were alone, had no resources, and you were exhausted.

“One question,” the soldier said, he hadn’t moved and was still holding your gaze.

“Ask away,” you said, pressing your hand to the now stinging wound on your hip. You wished he hadn’t mentioned it; until he had, you’d forgotten about it.

“Why is my wrist stinging?”

“Your wrist?” You automatically looked to his metal arm, knowing full well that if there was a malfunction there, you wouldn’t be able to help him. But his left arm only moved to pull up the sleeve over his right arm to rub at his wrist.

“Can I see it?” you ask quietly. He cautiously holds out his wrist, and you see it. The mark of your initials across his wrist.

“Oh shit…” you mumbled. He heard you, and looked at you with a little panic in his eyes. “It’s uh… It’s your soulmate mark.”

“My soulmate mark?” the soldier repeated, his brow furrowed a moment before a connection was made in his brain, “right, I remember that. But… I had an enemy mark too didn’t I?”

“Probably, most people do.”

“So it’s stinging cause I’m close to this person. How do I know which one it is?” he looked at you accusingly, “you’re the only other person here, so you’re it, but which one are you?!”

“Soulmate,” you mutter

“How do you know?!”

“Cause these are your initials,” you said rolling up what’s left of both of your sleeves before turning your wrists to show him the initials there. “W.S., Winter Soldier” you indicate your left wrist, “and J.B.B, James Buchanan Barnes.”

“I’m not-”

“I know you don’t remember… it’s okay. But you are both of these people; my enemy yes, but also my soulmate. I won’t hurt you, and I will never purposefully do something to get you hurt. Your wrist is burning because you’re near me. When you walk away, it will stop.” you lower your arms and look back at Steve for a second before meeting the soldier’s gaze again.

“I’m sorry I don’t have more time to explain, but you aren’t safe here. The people who will be coming won’t help you, and I don’t want you getting hurt anymore. You’ve got to get out of here. I promise, ‘James’ or ‘Bucky’, whichever name you used, he’s still in there, he’s still alive, or my mark would have disappeared, you just gotta find him. Find yourself, then come find me again.”

Sirens sounded as you finished speaking, and the soldier took one last look at you before jogging off in the opposite direction. But just before he disappeared from sight, you felt it.

_ You could have sworn that your right wrist was burning. _


	3. Chapter 3

It was two years before you felt anything again.

In that time, you’d been on countless missions and made a place for yourself among the Avengers. You’d met Wanda, Pietro, and you were in the room when Vision was “born”. You fought against Ultron, and saved thousands of lives, including Pietro’s. You’d flown in at just the right moment and managed to knock Clint, the child he was protecting,  _ and _ Pietro out of the way of the bullets. Wanda, Pietro, and Clint had become your closest friends; Natasha pretended to be put out about it, but she was happy that you had fit into the family so well.

Tony had needed a lot of help after Ultron. Since Bruce was AWOL, Tony had taken all of the blame for his creation, and though he honestly felt that it  _ was _ all his fault, the blame sat very heavily on his shoulders. Tony seemed to harbor a lot of self-hatred, and Ultron just gave him another reason for the hate. He covered his hate in jokes and sarcasm, but if you waited long enough, you could find him in his broken moments, and he’d lose his facade. 

Natasha had needed help too, but she was as shielded about it as Tony. Neither of them wanted to talk, to anyone, but you’d managed to get them to open up, if only a little.

Tony was easier. If you could catch him in the kitchen at about 4:30 in the morning making his umpteeth cup of coffee, and you just  _ happened _ to be awake, you could get him to talk. It was easier for him if it seemed like a coincidence, although judging by the small smile that spread across his face when he saw you every morning, he was aware that your early morning trips to the kitchen were for him.

You wore down Natasha over time. She already trusted you a little, but she never allowed herself to really  _ have _ problems. Like Tony, she accepted fault and blame because she felt she deserved it. Not because of self-hatred like Tony, but because she felt she deserved whatever came her way. Like she should have to live with the guilt and hatred as some sort of atonement for the wrongs she’d committed. As if she felt that in order to balance the cosmic scales, she had to suffer. Bruce leaving had hurt her; not because she loved him, (because as she’d say “love is for children”) but because he had needed her.  She had been necessary. Even if it was  _ just _ for the lullabies, she had been needed. Need and want were different things though. You did your best to convince her that even if she didn’t feel especially  _ needed _ , she was definitely  _ wanted. _

Then came the “Accords” situation. Tony and Natasha’s feelings of guilt drove them to support the restrictions that the accords imposed. Rhodey and Vision sided with them as well. Wanda was in no state to make a decision either way; she still felt incredibly guilty about what had happened with the bomb incident. You, Pietro, and Steve had done your best to reassure her, but you could tell she still shouldered the blame. Ross almost blaming her outright for not only that incident, but several past incidents as well had her reeling. You’d had to physically restrain Pietro, who’d wanted to throttle Ross for upsetting his sister; you had to debate whether or not to let him. 

You had been present at the meeting in Vienna, not to sign the accords, but to show unity among the Avengers, even if it was just for appearances sake. You’d been relatively close to the blast, but avoided most of the shrapnel. Steve called you as soon as you left the building.

“You okay?”

“Well, I’ve definitely been better, but I got off pretty easy.”

“They’re claiming Bucky did it.” Your head was still ringing from the blast, so it took you a moment to process what he’d just said, but when you did, you had an instant response.

“Couldn’t have,” you coughed into the phone, “I didn’t feel anything.”

“What?” Steve asked. You coughed hard several times, clearing your throat before speaking again. 

“I didn’t  _ feel _ anything, Steve. He couldn’t have been here. I would have felt something.” Either of your marks would have burned if Bucky or the Winter Soldier had been present, even if he wasn’t in the building. But you’d felt nothing.

Steve exhaled heavily before responding. He gave you an address to meet up with him and Sam. You hung up just as Nat approached you.

“You okay?” she asked, repeating Steve’s words.

“My head’s still ringing and I imagine my makeup is a wreck, but I’m good. You?”

“She raised her eyebrows a little, but nodded. She opened her mouth to speak, but her phone rang.

After a few seconds, you realized that Steve was on the other end of the line, and you took your moment to escape. If Nat had seen you leaving the scene, she would have followed you. Natasha didn’t have the marks, whether they’d never appeared on her wrists or they’d been removed somehow by the Red Room, you didn’t know. You only knew that she was a skeptic when it came to the marks. She likely wouldn’t have listened to what you had to say about your marks. So you snuck away.

…

Steve and Sam were remarkably close by. You called them from your car instead of going inside the bar that they were hiding in. The car was from Embassy, once again, you’d removed the tracker, but you hoped to switch cars soon. 

“You look like shit,” Sam observed as he Steve climbed into borrowed sedan.

“Thanks for noticing. This is my ‘I just got blown up’ look,” you said, not really caring about his sarcasm. You knew you were bleeding through your shredded clothes. “Where are we headed?”

“Do you have a change of clothes with you? Your gear?” Steve asked.

“Yes, it’s all in the trunk. I don’t have  _ all _ of my gear; most of it’s still at the compound.”

“I grabbed what you had in the locker room,” Sam said, “we just gotta stop and pick it up.”

“Awesome. We also need to ditch this car. It’s the Embassy’s. I ditched the tracker, but it’ll be easy to find.” The guys nodded. 

You left the car and picked up the gear while Steve found an alternative vehicle. Once you changed into your gear, you put on the loose fitting sweatshirt and joggers that you’d had in the car. You weren’t fashionable, but they hid the leather and spandex of your tactical gear, which would have drawn quite a bit of attention. Not that fashion should have been one of your worries; Steve’s idea of a “low profile car” was a rusty old volkswagen.

“Can this thing even go freeway speeds?” you asked. It had been hours since you’d squished yourself into the back seat of the VW and your cuts and bruises were throbbing, and your ass was numb.

“Barely,” Sam grumbled from the passenger seat. Steve elected to ignore both of you, so you asked a different question.

“Where are we going anyway?”

“Bucharest.”

“So another 3 hours then,” you sighed, scrunching yourself back into the seat, trying to get comfortable.

“Just about,” Steve replied, looking at you in the rearview mirror, “Are you sure okay?”

“Just scrapes and bruises, Cap; I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about Bucky.” And what could happen to him if the others got to him first… The rest of the drive was uncomfortably silent.

…

Bucky had made a life for himself; a small one, but one of his own. He had an apartment that he’d sparsely decorated, and a kitchen that appeared to be well used. The windows were all covered, but inside the one room space, you could see a personality coming through. Steve found a journal filled with notes, memories and thoughts that Bucky must have jotted down whenever he remembered something. The covers and pages were worn, but not damaged, as if he opened and leafed through it often, like he would read through his thoughts to remind himself of who he was and where he came from. He was rebuilding; you felt hope spreading in your heart. You also felt a slight burning on your right wrist. It started to burn just a little but the temperature increased as Bucky got closer to the building and eventually entered and headed to his room. When he opened the door, Steve was the first person he saw. Steve asked if Bucky knew who he was and Bucky seemed to avoid the question, saying he saw the exhibit at the museum. Slowly, you stepped into Bucky’s line of sight. 

“Do you remember me? We met in D.C. a while ago.”

“Yeah, I remember you.” His eyes darted from you to Steve, then back to you and you saw his right wrist twitch.

“Remember what I said about your wrist?” you asked. Your wrist wasn’t burning anymore, it was more of a tingle now.

Bucky nodded in response before meeting Steve’s eyes, “I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore.”

“We know you weren’t there,” you said quickly, drawing his attention back to you, “but people who think you do are on their way here. And they’re not planning on taking you alive.”

“That’s smart. Good strategy,” Bucky deadpanned. Your heart squeezed; he really didn’t value his life much did he?

Bucky and Steve were still talking, but Sam called a breach and a grenade flew through the window a moment later.

Everything after that seemed to pass in a blur. Bucky said he wasn’t gonna kill anyone, and aside from some rather devastating blows, he appears to keep that promise. Then he was jumping and landing on the roof of the building across the street. It was an easy leap for you, with your powers, and you landed just in time to tackle a man who was wearing what looked like a black cat costume who had almost been within reach of Bucky. Landing with a thud, the man rolled to his feet very quickly and he was off after Bucky again, attacking him with sharp claws that protruded from the fingertips of his suit. He swiped quite close to Bucky’s face and you tackled him again. Bucky managed to escape the roof and headed for the nearby freeway underpass. You weren’t able to hold off the attacker for long, but while he was fast on his feet, you could fly. 

You caught up to Bucky as he ran down the highway, against traffic. You were just behind him when the cat-man caught your leg and threw you to the ground. Hissing in pain, you rolled to your hands and knees. As Bucky sped away from you, your wrist began to burn again. When he had been near you, it had been a tingle, but as he moved farther away it became a burn.  

There were puncture wounds around your calf, and you were pretty sure your shoulder was dislocated, not to mention all of the wounds you already had from the bombing that were now reopened and bleeding freely. The guys had left you in the dust, but as you closed in on them, all you saw was flashing blue lights. As you got closer, the burning lessened again, not that you noticed much, you were much to preoccupied by the scene in front of you. Sam, Steve, Bucky and their attacker were all surrounded by armed officers, and Rhodey in his full War Machine suit.

You kept to the shadows, wanting to avoid notice, but you needed to know what was going on, and where the boys were being taken. Berlin.

Exhaustion threatened, but you knew that you needed to beat the transport to it’s destination if you were going to be of any help to the guys. You had to be able to make Natasha, and anyone else there, believe that you hadn’t had anything to do with what just happened in Bucharest; otherwise, the guys didn’t stand a chance of getting out. So, shoulder throbbing, you launched into the air and headed for Berlin. You had to stop in  Vienna on the way there though to grab your things; it wouldn’t do to leave anything behind.


	4. Chapter 4

As it turned out, leaving things behind was the least of your worries. By the time you had snuck into your hotel, gathered your things, snuck out, and flown back to Berlin, Tony, Natasha, and Everett Ross had all closed around the boys. You had decided to keep out of the building, knowing that even though you could avoid being detained, Tony and Natasha would  _ know _ that you had been involved, and would be all over you. So you watched from the outside as shit hit the fan. 

The faint pulsing on your right wrist became a burn, then stopped altogether, you were concerned, until the burning started on your left wrist; then you were thoroughly panicked. Someone, or  _ something _ , had triggered the Winter Soldier. Not five minutes later, the soldier was making his way to the roof of the building, having been blocked from the ground level exit. You jumped from the building across the street and flew to the roof just in time to catch the soldier bursting through the door. There was a large black helicopter on the roof and the soldier was heading for it. If he managed to get inside and take off, you would probably never see him again, and you couldn’t protect him. 

You stepped slowly into the soldiers view, your hands raised. “Do you remember me?” you asked, keeping your voice as calm as you could.

He didn’t respond, but he stopped walking towards the helicopter. You figured that was all you were going to get, so you continued, slowly making your way towards him.

“I’m gonna take that as a ‘sort of’, no surprise there. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. You met me a few years ago, and I saw you again just a few hours ago. My initials are on your wrist,” the soldier glanced down at his metal arm, then at you, “your right wrist. That’s a soulmate mark. I have your initials on mine.” You held out your right arm, palm up so he could see. But he looked confused. You guessed he didn’t recognize the initials as his own.

And you didn’t get a chance to explain, because Steve came running out the door the next second, and the soldier was no longer paying any attention to what you said.

Which was how you’d ended up soaking wet, and more dragging than flying both Bucky, and Steve out of a river, and hiding in an abandoned warehouse.

...

You kept to yourself for most of the day, letting Steve and Sam coordinate their plans. You knew that Bucky was back in control and you wanted to try and talk to him, but at the same time, it could do more harm than good. So you went ahead to meet the rest of the team at the airport while the boys went to get their gear from Sharron. 

Clint, Wanda, and Pietro arrived a moment after you did in an inconspicuous van, and you climbed in. You had to climb around the sleeping man on the back seat to get to them. Wanda and Clint were up in the front seats, the sleeping man was on the middle bench, and Pietro was lounging in the far back.

“Are you okay?” Clint asked, ever the worrier.

“I’ve been better, but I’ve also been  _ much _ worse,” you smiled a little as Wanda reached back and awkwardly rubbed your shoulder. 

When the boys arrived, you were introduced to the sleeping man, Scott Lang, and a slapdash plan of attack and defense was made. 

A plan that went to hell in a handbasket quickly. Rhodey was in critical condition, and everyone except Bucky and Steve was captured. But at least Bucky would be safe. 

...

The RAFT was a high security prison, for the most dangerous convicts; convicts with superpowers, and it was well equipped for its inmates. Scott, Clint and Sam were stripped of their gear and left alone, but you, Pietro and Wanda were not.

Wanda was collared; whoever the hell was in charge of the prison was clearly afraid of her powers. Almost every time she moved or spoke, she was shocked, so she had become a shell; sitting silently and as still as possible. It broke your heart, but there was nothing you could do, you could barely move yourself. 

They had strapped huge boots to yours and Pietro’s feet. You could lift yourself and two super soldiers off the ground, and Pietro could zip around so fast he was barely visible, so the guards had weighed the two of you down with hundreds of pounds of concrete and iron. Then they’d put bracelets on your wrists that shocked you when they got too close to the boots, so you couldn’t remove them. Moving was agony, and sitting in one place was torture, and seeing your family in the same situation? For the first time in years, you felt like you were going to cry.

When Tony came to talk to Sam and Clint, you couldn’t even look at him. You loved Tony like family, but he’d had a hand in putting you there, he hadn’t stopped the guards from restraining you or Wanda. You didn’t know what to think or say, so you just sat, avoided eye contact, and listened. He said he was going to help Steve and Bucky, and Sam told him where to go. Even though you hoped it would work out, you had a sinking feeling that something would go horribly wrong.

And when Steve showed up to break you all out, you knew you’d been right.

...

-Wakanda-

_ Pacing _ , that was your new life;  _ pacing _ . 

Wakanda was beautiful, and once you’d healed up from your time in the RAFT, you’d flown over the incredible landscape for miles, but you always returned to the palace. Specifically, you’d return to the lab, to Bucky. 

Bucky had  _ chosen  _ to be put back in cryo. Steve assured you, multiple times, that it had been Bucky’s choice, but it didn’t help; you still hurt. Bucky may have “chosen” to go back in ice, but he hadn’t really had much of a choice at all. Which was the source of your pacing; undirected frustration and anger. 

There wasn’t much you could do to help the scientists. You knew next to nothing about psychological programming, and what knowledge you had about HYDRA paled in comparison to everyone else’s. You were entirely useless, and it was driving you mad; you wanted to help your soulmate.

Wanda had tried to draw you away, into whatever she was doing, Clint had given you marksmanship lessons that ran as late as possible, trying to wear you out, but it didn’t work. A few times, you tried to talk to Steve, but as much as he wanted to seem like he was okay, the captain was  _ not  _ okay. Pietro didn’t try to distract you, or talk to you, he just paced with you. He would occasionally pester you into a race, you flying and him running, but mostly he just provided quiet company. 

But eventually, even pacing became too much. You took to your room, pacing the smaller space, alone. You only left your room to visit Bucky.

Maybe “visiting” wasn’t the right term; Bucky was entirely unconscious, for all intents and purposes he was dead, and your presence in his room made no difference to him. Yet, you kept at it.

At first, you just sat in the room, unsure of what to do. But as time went on, you got more comfortable. You brought work into his room, books, music, your laptop with some movies. Sometimes you would read to him, stories at first, but soon you took to reading psychological papers. You had no chance of ever really helping the doctors who were trying to help Bucky, but it made you feel better to at least understand what they were saying.

And that was when you’d come across an experiment. It wasn’t very old, but although it had been successful, it hadn’t been continued. An MIT funded, therapeutic experiment designed to deal with traumatic memories. An experiment spearheaded by  _ Tony Stark _ . 

Your hand had twitched for your cell phone with barely a thought, and it took you a moment to remember that contacting Tony would be a potential disaster. But you couldn’t do  _ nothing _ ; you had information that could help Bucky, and you  _ needed _ to tell someone.

“Steve,” you called. He looked up, seeming surprised to see you; maybe you  _ had _ been spending too much time avoiding everyone. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” you smiled slightly.

“I’m okay, Steve. But I… I found something that may help Bucky, but it’s seriously complicated.”

Steve’s whole posture changed, he seemed to almost relax a little before straightening up to his full height. He’d been shrinking in on himself since Bucky had gone back under. It was as if the weight on his shoulders had been incrementally increasing, forcing them to droop more and more each day that Bucky stayed in cryo. You prayed that the hope you were giving Steve wasn’t a false one.

“Complicated how?”

“It’s  _ Tony’s _ experiment, Steve.”

…

Telling Steve had been a mistake. Although he had been willing to do  _ anything _ to help Bucky, he had been wary of contacting Tony. So wary, that after a week of debating the pros and cons with the team and T’Challa, he  _ still _ hadn’t acted. That inaction, had lead to you and Shuri consipring. 

T’Challa’s little sister was a goddamn genius. When you gave her the information you had on Tony’s process, she had been able to figure out almost everything without needing Tony. Honestly, you should have known to bypass the guys and go straight to Shuri; she could do practically anything. But there was still some information missing, information you were going to have to try and get without letting anyone else know.

So, with Shuri’s help, you had a burner phone, a fancy-ass, untraceable laptop, and you were on a private plane out of Wakanda with plans in mind.

Plan “A” had you hacking the MIT servers and getting access to the study that way. 

Plan “B” had you  _ attempting _ to hack FRIDAY to get the study. 

Plan “C” was contacting Tony on the burner to get the information. 

Either way, once you got it, you’d send it in an encrypted e-mail to an anonymous IP that Shuri would wipe from the face of the earth once she was done; the information couldn’t be traced back to her. That was why you were out of the country; you were the only one who would be caught if it went tits up. You’d left notes for everyone back in Wakanda… you were prepared for the worst case scenario.

As per usual, plan “A” didn’t amount to anything. Tony had the experiment on his personal server, so although you cracked the MIT server, you didn’t gain anything. Cursing, you backed out, and instead aimed at hacking FRIDAY. You knew you wouldn’t come out of  _ that _ endeavour unnoticed, but, taking a deep breath, you started anyway.

“Y/N… what  _ the fuck _ are you doing?” Tony’s image popped up on your computer screen.  _ “Plan ‘C’ it is then,” _ you thought.

Tony looked exhausted; there were huge, dark circles under his eyes and his hair was a mess. 

“Hey, Tony. Long time no see. Uh... Well, I would lie usually, but I don’t think it’d work,” you said, a small smile on your face, “I’m trying to access an experiment you did a while ago. I went through MIT first, but it ain’t there. So, here I am.”

Tony sighed. “You know you’re  _ a fugitive _ , right? On the run? Shouldn’t be sticking your neck out like this or you’ll get caught and taken somewhere shitty?” You didn’t respond, Tony almost growled as he scrubbed his hands over his face. “What the  _ hell _ are you thinking? Did Rogers put you up to this? I swear to-”

“It was my idea, Tony,” you spoke up. He stopped mid sentence and looked at you.

“Why?”

“Bucky’s my soulmate, Tony. I  _ know _ what happened. I  _ know _ what was done; both to you and him. It may never be fixed. But I gotta  _ try _ , Tony. I  _ have _ to.” Tony looked unconvinced, so you continued, “Without most of his memories, we may never know who ordered the hit that killed your parents. I know you blame the soldier, I get that. But I want the people behind him. I want the people who controlled him. And with the help from this experiment, I’m gonna be closer to finally getting them.”

A long pause followed and your heart raced while you waiting for Tony to speak his mind.  He ran his hands up and down his face then through his hair before looking back at you and sighing.

“What do you need?”

You feel a small smile sprout on your face as you hear Shuri quietly go "Yes!" through the small comm in your ear. 


	5. Chapter 5

Tony hadn’t been able to keep you out of trouble, but then, you hadn’t really expected him to. 

_ “You know, this is gonna be tough to do quietly,” he said before he transferred the program information. _

_ “Yeah, I know. Whatever happens, pin the blame on me, Tony.” _

_ “Are you crazy? I can-” _

_ “No, Tony. Put whatever blame, for however much trouble we make, on me. I’m a big girl, I can handle it. I’m already in hiding, I’ll go deeper.” _

_ “You seriously willing to go this far for Barnes?” You could hear the incredulity in Tony’s voice. _

_ “He’s my soulmate, Tony,” you said plainly, “and he’s been through enough. He deserves a chance.” _

_ “Don’t you think he’d rather have that chance with you in it though?” Tony’s voice had softened. _

_ You took a deep breath before responding. _

_ “He doesn’t really know me, Tony. As much as I’d like that…  _ love _ that. It’s not worth him not having that chance at all.” _

_ Tony sighed. “Okay kid. But I’m still gonna try and keep you out of trouble if I can.” For a few minutes, all you could hear was the sound of typing. “I hope he appreciates all this, kid. You’re being awfully selfless. I know why,” he said quickly before you could cut it, “I know what you’re thinking, and I am pretty damn proud of you, but I’m just hoping you get the credit, the love you deserve.” _

_ “Thanks Tony,” you responded quietly.  _

_ “Alright, it’s all set to transfer. You’ve probably got a day, two max before they trace this to wherever you are. Get outta there and leave no trace.” _

_ “Okay. I will. Tony,” you said before severing the computer connection that was likely to be the last time you spoke to him. “I really hope I see you again. I already miss you and the others. I know you and Steve have some shit to figure out, but… would you call him? For me? I think he may need an explanation.” _

_ Tony sighed. “You don’t ask much do you?” he said on a breathy laugh. “I’ll make the call, kid. Take care of yourself.” _

_ “Yes Sir.” You choked back the tears that threatened and shut down the computer. Following Shuri’s instructions, you transferred the data she needed, and destroyed the comm device she’d given you, after saying goodbye to her as well. _

Before you’d left Wakanda, you’d given Shuri a stack of letters to give the others when they inevitably realized what you’d done. You expressly told them  _ not _ to follow or search for you. Any and all of them were likely to try, and probably succeed. The trouble that was coming for you was more than they all needed to handle. They’d all been through more than enough bullshit already. You hoped they’d understand. 

Your letter to Bucky said basically the same thing as everyone else’s, but it was a bit longer than the others. You’d tried to explain as much as you could about soulmates, as well as how you felt about him. You wrote as much as you could about your past and his. You were risking your life to give him a chance at having one, and you didn’t want him to think you’d made the wrong choice. He deserved a chance.

That was what kept your spirits up while serving your second stint in the RAFT. You knew that Bucky had the chance he’d deserved. As shitty as the super-prison was, you would happily stay there for the rest of your natural life so long as your soulmate and friends could continue theirs freely.

For a while, Secretary Ross had been a near constant visitor. He grilled you frequently, but for a few weeks, he was conspicuously absent. You didn’t miss him, but when he wasn’t around, several of the guards had tendencies to become violent. 

By the time Secretary Ross reappeared, both of you looked rather different.

He seemed to have come to some sort of realization. He looked tired, a little weary, and when he spoke, he spoke with less conviction than before. Your changes were more physical. Your bruises had multiplied, and several scrapes had appeared on your face. That wasn’t mentioning the broken ribs and fingers you were sporting. 

“Jesus Y/L/N. What the fuck happened to you?” he asked as he walked into the interrogation room you’d been deposited in. 

“Surprised you’re asking, Ross. Isn’t there a camera log somewhere around here? Can’t you watch whatever surveillance there is? I know there are cameras in my cell.”

“Yeah, and they were all conveniently turned off for most of the time I was gone. The stories I’m hearing don’t add up for shit. So  _ you _ tell me. What happened?”

After looking at he man for a while, you did. You explained everything that had happened and gave whatever names you could. When you were through, Ross had all but collapsed into his chair, rubbing his face. 

“Well, that’s just fucking great,” he grumbled. He looked up then, meeting your eyes. “For what little it’s worth, I’m sorry Y/L/N. I hadn’t planned on being gone quite that long.”

“Am I allowed to ask where you were? You seem… different.”

“Wakanda,” he said, “and it was a cluster fuck.”

“What do you mean?” Your face must have shown the shock you felt, because Ross actually continued to talk. He gave you, what you were sure was an abridged version of a battle between King T’Challa and his long lost cousin.

“Is T’Challa okay? What about Shuri?” Ross didn’t question how you knew them, didn’t even question why you asked. And when your shoulders sagged in relief after he explained that they were all fine and the country was stable, he didn’t comment.

“Thank you for telling me, Secretary Ross,” you said. He nodded and waved off your thanks.

Strangely, whatever had occured in Wakanda had made Ross a different man. If it weren’t for the fact that he was essentially your jailor, you thought it may have been possible for the two of you to have become friends. Honestly, you’d forgiven his snarky attitude the first time you’d met. You’d even  _ almost _ forgiven him for the spectacularly shitty way he’d treated Bucky.

As odd as it was, you actually talked to Ross about Bucky. About how HYDRA had treated him, and Ross actually seemed to have understood. What had originally been nothing but animosity, had become an almost easy friendship. 

Tony was able to visit a few times.You weren’t allowed to be alone with him due to Tony’s interference before, but Ross didn’t intrude on your conversations. 

“Did you call?” you asked. Tony had come to visit again, and you and he were in a small interrogation room. Ross was on the other side of the two-way mirror, so you didn’t mention names or specifics.

“Yeah, I did. Spent a good twenty minutes arguing. I almost hung up about five times, but we did eventually talk.” You rolled your eyes and smiled. You’d hoped Tony and Steve could at least  _ try _ to work out their shit. With Tony hopefully beginning to understand the predicament that Bucky had been in, and Steve calming down enough to allow Tony to be shocked and angry, the two could possibly mend their friendship. At least, you hoped they could. 

“He asked about you, ya know,” Tony said, not making eye contact. “I guess you didn’t quite explain what it was you were planning before you took off. I think he’s pretty pissed.”

You chuckled. “He would be. It’s too much like something he’d do if he could. They couldn’t even decide if I was on to something. I gave them a week; they blew it. Besides,” you added smiling, “I left letters for them.”

“Oh yeah. He used some words I’ve  _ never _ heard from him before when he talked about those letters.”

“I don’t know what he’s so pissed about. I got his friend back for him didn’t I?”

“How’d you know it worked?”

“I stayed in contact. Never with the same person twice, and I cut it all off as soon as I heard it had worked, but I had to know.”

“Ya know, I think I understand why he’s mad atcha.”

You looked over and cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t reply. Not that Tony needed encouragement.

“Don’t get me wrong, kid. I’m proud of you. You made a completely selfless choice, and stuck to it even though you  _ knew _ you wouldn’t get to see the results. But I get why he’s upset. He feels like you didn’t trust him.”

“Well he has an unnatural need to fix shit. He  _ always _ takes the heat for things, Tony. I think he’s come to believe that he  _ has _ to,” you shook your head, “Actually, you kinda do that too. This was  _ my _ choice, I won’t feel sorry for making it.”

Tony smiled. It wasn’t a bright, full smile like you knew he was capable of, but one that was a sort of mixture between sad and proud.

When Tony left at the end of that visit, he was itching to pick up that shitty old phone that Rogers had left him.


End file.
